


Round 8 LDWS Drabbles

by oceaxe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:49:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: I made it through week 6 of the 8th Round of the Last Drabble Writer Standing challenge at Slythindor100! Here are my collected drabbles, with prompts and wordcounts.





	

**Prompt** : 'Manners, Potter, or I’ll have to give you a detention.’ (says Draco to Harry) (OoTP) | no more than 499 words.

 **Title: The Potions Professor Has a Filthy Mouth**  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: fingerfucking, rimming, roleplay of age difference  
Word Count: 497

Harry had agreed to replace the DADA Professor as a temporary measure, but it had dragged on for much longer than either he or McGonagall had thought it would. One week had turned to two, to four, and now it was going on eight weeks. Eight long weeks without being able to pop down to the clubs for some casual companionship to sate the ache inside. It was bloody boring and more than that, frustrating. Luckily, the Potions Professor was amenable to providing a bit of diversion. Drinking had turned to talking, to flirting. And now, well.

Harry was deeply curious to know what Malfoy’s prick would feel like lodged far up inside him, but for the moment he was content - ecstatic, really - to feel the insistent slide of those elegant fingers against his prostate. Malfoy kept adding more lube until Harry could feel it running down his legs, hear it squelching wetly. Harry hadn’t known that Malfoy was so filthy, but he had hoped, and he very much approved.

He felt delicious pressure building inside and pushed back onto that wicked hand, wanting more.

“Fucking hell, Malfoy, put it in me already,” Harry demanded, writhing desperately.

“Manners, Potter, or I’ll have to give you a detention,” Malfoy purred as he continued his ministrations.

“You sounded like Snape just then,” Harry panted, his arousal incomprehensibly spiking higher.

“Did I?” Malfoy replied, pitching his voice even lower as his fingers relentless teased Harry’s hole. “Would you like detention with the Professor, Potter? You perverted little boy. I always knew your problems in class stemmed from your sick obsession with me.” The sound of that velvet voice was doing terrible things to his ability to cope with the levels of pleasure Malfoy - Professor Malfoy - was inflicting.

The Professor withdrew his fingers and leaned in to blow warm air over Harry’s now-dripping hole, then thrust his tongue deep inside.

Oh Merlin, now Harry really wanted that massive cock reaming him. He’d felt it earlier through Malfoy’s trousers while they were making out, and his mouth watered at the thought of it plunging into him, stroking his walls til he couldn’t see straight.

“Shit, Malf- Professor,” Harry choked. “If you keep that up, I’m going to come.”

“Language, Mr. Potter!” Malfoy smacked his arse, then returned his fingers to continue stretching Harry open. “I think we should find out how many times I can make you come,” Malfoy replied, still using that silkily guttural tone. “So far, your facility for fucking exceeds your disastrous -- mm, that’s right -- potions performance, but we should make absolutely sure that it’s not merely a fluke, or the result of my considerable talents.” He reapplied his outrageously skilled tongue to Harry’s arse and Harry came, shuddering and gasping.

Hours later, when the number had been determined to be seven, Harry slid the hastily-conjured school ties off his wrists and murmured into Malfoy’s neck, “Can we schedule that detention for tomorrow?”

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 **Prompt:** "Harry’s mind worked feverishly and his dreams, when he finally fell asleep, were broken and disturbed by images of Malfoy..." (HBP) | 365 exactly

 **Title: The Long Dreaming Years**  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: None  
Word Count: 365

“I have to see what Draco Malfoy is doing inside of you…” It worked! The door materialized and Harry bolted in, heart pounding. Inside, the room was dark except for hundreds of flickering candles, and a robed figure in a circle of dim light. He could tell by the silvery hair that it was Malfoy. The figure turned and grey eyes pinned him with a heated stare. Faster than thought, the robe dropped to the ground, revealing Malfoy’s naked body. Harry was before him without realizing he’d moved, his hands reaching out to touch- and he woke up, breathing hard.

“I need the place where everything is hidden…” The diadem was almost in his hands, then he heard Malfoy’s voice ring out. “Hold it, Potter!” He turned and saw Malfoy standing close, reaching out to him. “That’s my wand you’re holding.” He looked down and the wand was a living branch, tiny flowers budding off of small shoots that began to twine around his wrist. Then- fire. He was in the air; arms holding him tightly, a hard, lean body at his back, soft lips on his neck. Birdsong woke him up to a light-filled room.

“I need to know what my son is up to…” But it wasn’t James in the room; it was Albus, his head bent over Scorpius Malfoy’s. And then it wasn’t their sons, it was them - his head tipped back, Malfoy’s hand on the nape of his neck. Their jaws worked as they kissed. Malfoy pulled away to look Harry in the eye. “How long have you wanted this?” Harry made no answer except to draw him back for another deep kiss. The scene blurred and his eyes blinked open to see the rosy fingers of dawn.

Harry drained his coffee mug and set it in the sink. He gazed blindly out the back window at the sun-gilded garden, last night’s dream replaying itself over and over. “Hardly the first time I’ve dreamed about him,” he muttered, turning away. Harry wondered if he would see him at the station this year, or possibly run into him at Scrivenshaft’s. Hope shouldn’t feel like a dagger in your chest, he thought.

 

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 **Prompt** : "Harry however had never been less interested in Quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Malfoy" (HBP) | 300 to 310 words.

 **Title: Les Jeux Sont Fait**  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Masturbation, extreme smugness  
Word Count: 310

Draco’s transition into the Department of Magical Games and Sports was going swimmingly. He'd deployed an effective charm offensive on everyone – everyone but Potter, that is. When Potter had relocated to DMGS after an abortive Auror career, Draco knew he’d also end up here after his Seeker career ended. Now here he was, a man with a plan.

Draco's standoffishness and furtive behavior were already paying dividends. Potter’s obsessive snooping had quickly uncovered Draco’s planted evidence – a romantic owl-note from “Brian,” gay personals ads circled with notations, etc. For the last week, Draco had been visiting the loo with suspicious frequency, taking care to look shagged out every time he returned to his desk. Potter was scarcely attending to his job anymore, and given how much Potter loved Quidditch, Draco felt pretty smug about turning his head so quickly.

He strode to the loo once more – time to up the ante.

He recognized the shimmer of the cloak under the rear stall. And now for the show. Draco let his belt clank open and trousers slide down. Taking his cock in hand, he allowed himself the softest moan, just enough to be audible. He set up a frantic rhythm, slapping sounds echoing in the tiled room. His ears pricked up – he could just detect some labored breathing. Excellent. Draco cast Lubricus to add another aural dimension and smiled at the filthy sounds thus produced. His hips bucked and he gasped – and heard an answering gasp from Potter. Yes. Eyes rolling back, he pumped his completion on the stall door. In the ensuing silence, he could hear a telltale rhythmic rustling sound. Oh, yes.

Draco buttoned up and left the loo feeling like he’d finally beaten Potter to the Snitch.

When Potter materialized twenty minutes later, Draco favored him with a blinding smile. The game’s afoot.

 

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 **Prompt** : “Harry fell to his knees beside Malfoy." from: HPB | 325 words exactly

 **Title: I Must Not Tell Lies**  
Rating: R  
Warnings: infidelity, blow-job  
Word Count: 325

They had been trapped for eighteen hours and Harry was starting to panic. Ginny was two days past her due date - he couldn’t be absent for much longer. More pressingly, being stuck in a Death Eater booby-trap with Malfoy was dangerous and getting more so by the minute.

“Have you checked the -”

“Yes, Potter, I’ve checked the bloody suppression wards. We still won’t be able to cast anything effective. All unlocking and revealing spells are blocked,” Malfoy said. He looked over to where Harry paced. “You may as well relax and get comfortable.”

A familiar light gleamed in his eyes, his posture sending warning signals. Malfoy unbuttoned his robes and moved towards Harry.

“No,” Harry said flatly. He couldn’t believe Draco was doing this here, now. He backed away, ending up against the wall.

Malfoy attempted to pin Harry against the wall with his hands and hips, but Harry pushed past him, the fire of rage surpassing the surge of lust in his groin.

They stood facing each other, panting. The air between them had been slowly charging and now seemed likely to combust.

“I know how to defeat the wards, Potter,” Malfoy said as he again prowled towards Harry. “I’ve known all along.”

“You-” Harry choked on his outrage.

“Why wouldn’t I know?” He smirked and gestured towards his arm. “I’ll get us out of here as soon as you give me what we both want.”

Harry’s blood thundered in his ears. Most of his resistance to Malfoy was manufactured from obligation and fear of being caught, shamed for his unfaithfulness.

“I’m going to kill you,” he breathed.

“Not likely. Try another four-letter word.” Malfoy lowered his trousers. He reached in and withdrew his hard cock, presenting it to Harry.

Harry’s defenses crumbled to dust. He fell to his knees and took Malfoy’s cock in his mouth, groaning. One last time, he swore to himself.

The scar on his hand mocked him.

 

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 **Prompt:** "Malfoy was screaming and holding Harry so tightly it hurt." from: DH | 250 to 300 words

 **Title: Trust**  
Rating: PG  
Warnings: none  
Word Count: 300

I know they’re going to kill him. There’s no question in my mind. I know I can’t watch him die. If he’s killed, there will be no one left to oppose Him. That maniac would triumph and that cannot happen- I, more than anyone, know that.

I struggle to control my voice, my breathing. My senses are so heightened it feels like I'm hallucinating. Potter is in greater danger than he realizes; I’ll have to risk upsetting Crabbe and Goyle to warn him.

Thank Merlin it works, and Potter and his friends fend off Crabbe’s attacks. I feel faint with relief, though my heart still pumps terror through my veins.

But then something much worse happens: Crabbe takes this opportunity to display true magical power for once in his misbegotten life. Fiendfyre rages, the killing heat lapping at my robes, my skin, my hair.

I see Potter, Weasley and Granger aloft on brooms - I wave but they don’t see me. Panic, already bubbling in my throat, completely takes me over. An unearthly scream escapes me.

Beastly fire ravages the room, blistering my lungs. I'm going to pay for my cowardice - and I deserve it. Incredibly, a blur swoops in and an arm reaches down to me - Potter’s hand, extended. I clutch at it but I'm still holding Greg and together we are too heavy. Then Weasley hauls Greg onto his broom, and Potter wraps his hand around my wrist.

I'm screaming helplessly, holding tighter to Potter than I've ever clung to anything. He’s solid and strong. Despite my hysteria, I trust him. If I die now, I'll die trusting that he’s doing all he can, more than anyone else ever would. Tears are streaming down my face and for once, they have nothing to do with fear.

 

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 **Prompt:** "Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Harry." from: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix | 275 words exactly

 **Title: Rumours**  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: None  
Word Count: 275

Harry had been hearing rumours of Malfoy’s big dick for months now. Rumours mostly circulated by Malfoy, granted, but they preyed on his mind nevertheless. It would have been easy to discount them but for the fact that they had been confirmed by several sources.

He didn’t know why the rumors got to him so badly. It’s not like his own was anything to sneeze at. Possibly it was just that Harry truly did enjoy an enormous cock once in awhile - and if that phrase had more than one meaning where Malfoy was concerned, so be it.

Here came Malfoy now, speak of the devil. He sauntered down the hallway, nodding at Dawlish as he passed and looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Potter,” he said as he approached Harry, sidling closer to brush past him. “Have you seen Thomas?” Harry shook his head, looking down - which coincidentally brought Malfoy’s impressive bulge within his line of sight. His gaze swung up and he felt his cheeks heat. Malfoy smirked seductively. “Don’t be surprised if you see him walking funny, he’s been messing with stuff that’s too big for him, if you get my drift.”

“I’ll be sure to lend him a hand if he needs help walking,” Harry retorted, refusing to capitulate to Malfoy’s ridiculous ego. He tried to quell a pang of jealousy at the thought of Dean getting a taste of that legendary prick.

“Don’t be jealous, Potter,” Malfoy said slyly. “Any time you want a ride, all you have to do is ask. Owl me.”

Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Harry, who felt suddenly sick with desire.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a ton of fun doing this challenge - I'd never written drabbles before and it was a joy to work within the constraints. 
> 
> Congrats to Dracogotgame, the winner of this round. She's an amazing writer and a lovely person to boot!


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